Dawn of Yokai
by Silverfox92
Summary: The story of an insatiable young hero and his desire to prove to the world that his mettle holds weight just like the masked heroes of his dreams. A mysterious quest for power, internal discovery, and a bit of the supernatural. Enjoy!


**Dawn of Yokai (Prologue)**

Muted yellow lighting bounced from the shiny hardwood floors. They'd been waxed with the utmost care hours ago, offending scuffs from eager feet and scratches from accidentally dropped weaponry now littering its once perfect surface. There were small, almost imperceptible puddles of sweat in various places across the expansive dojo, which was covered on three sides by multi-colored walls with a high ceiling, the fourth being a glass mirror which doubled as one of the best training tools available. Inspirational quotes, and pictures of older grandmasters lined the walls, along with a decorative trophy case in the corner which practically overflowed with golden ornaments awarded to the students for their prowess across the nation. Heavy breathing pervaded the space with thick clouds of vapor, and even with the air conditioning on, a natural heat made the air humid and sticky. The training session had lasted for four hours.

"Gentlemen, line up!" The silver-haired instructor cried out in a stern, controlled voice. Male and female feet shuffled instantaneously as if an automatic switch had been flipped. Twenty-four strong, young bodies aligned in three neat rows, most of them clearly exhausted well beyond their breaking points, but refusing to fall to the floor. Only willpower kept them standing, but each and every set of eyes was fastened forward. Silence followed, and the students collectively tilted their heads to the floor in deference to the unquestionable command of their sensei.

"Attention, everyone!" The lead student, a twenty-eight year old martial artist in his athletic prime shouted. The authority in his voice was clear-cut and confident, and the black dreadlocks pulled into a high ponytail atop his light-skinned head gave him an intimidating presence, even though he was a few shades under six feet tall. As with the instructor, the entire class responded to the timbre of his voice, clasping their hands together at their sides, standing rigidly straight like boards. "Bow, and dismissed!" At that, everyone in the class filed out of the room, erupting in side conversations while collecting their civilian clothing from the nearby locker rooms. Soon after, most of them had left. The exceptions to this rule being the head student, the instructor, and a lanky African American man with long, sinewy libs and a uniquely weathered black belt that had multiple red stripes at the tail ends. The instructor, who hadn't moved an inch since the dismissal, appraised the two pupils that had been with him for the longest. A distinct sadness crossed his face. Something was up.

"Gentlemen," The instructor repeated after clearing his throat, steely packed muscles ruffling his clean, white gi, which had over a dozen patches down both arms and across his barrel chest. He pulled the ends of his midnight black belt, golden Japanese kanji denoting his status as a Grandmaster Practitioner catching the light intermittently, before continuing. His tough façade fractured for only a second, briefly softening his gaze and features, before he was one hundred percent business all over again. "Regretfully, today will be the last session of this dojo. The Paterson School of the Heart Way will be closing after tonight. I've thought long and hard about this, and after fifty five years of study, my next steps are toward peaceful living with my family and the paradise that comes thereafter." He silenced their immediate protests with a look alone, before continuing, fully cognizant of their palpable distress. "Today, I lay down my sword. It is not because I have lost my ability to wield it, nor because I have been defeated wielding it, but because this burden is too heavy to pass to either of you, my two most trusted pupils. I love you both as my own, and know that you have your own lives to lead that go well beyond this dojo. You are both destined to be great leaders, with a heap of responsibilities piled onto your backs and I believe that with all my heart. If you will indulge me, I have but one final request, while the school still stands with open doors."

"What is it Sensei?" The apprentices asked at the same time, without breaking rank. It was impossible to conceal the visible jags of disappointment that had speared them both upon hearing their mentor's words. They had seen dozens of students come and go through this very building, smiles on their faces, each walking their own paths down the road of life. The three of them had worked tirelessly together on expanding the space and improving the facilities on hot Sunday afternoons where the only reward was an ice-cold lemonade and peace of mind. The two apprentices both knew that none of the other students were aware of the sudden development, and that each and every one of them was destined to feel a reduced, but striking sadness that was similar to what they were currently experiencing. Their lives would change. Daniel Paterson had been one of the most excellent teachers on the planet, and this building was just a small testament to the lives that he'd touched. To hear that it was closing, without a new master to assume ownership…was downright inconceivable.

"Leon, Jet…" The head student nodded in acknowledgement first, followed by the taller student with the unique belt. "My wish is to see my two greatest pupils give it everything they've got in one extended kumite match against each other. No holds barred, no set time limit, no protective equipment, just like the old days." At that, Daniel flashed one of his beaming smiles, causing almost every age line in his face to completely vanish. His electric blue eyes crinkled at the sides, overflowing with the smallest tears of happiness. The two students looked at each other, back at their silver-haired instructor, and then both flashed cocky grins.

"Heat student or not, I think it's time you got knocked down a few pegs." Jet smirked, receiving a sudden second wind from the brand new challenge. He rolled his shoulders, noting his fresh faded haircut with shining black goatee in the mirror. Sweat colored his white gi gray in the center of his chest, and his calf muscles were taut and strong beneath heavy karate pants. His light brown eyes were blazing with confidence, taking on a heavenly glow from the dojo's warm lights. He set his angular jaw hard, despite his arrogant smirk. Kumite was his game. He'd placed in twice as many tournaments as Leon had, and the fact gave him immediate pleasure. Neither of them had fully recovered from the intense four hour training session, but as he looked away from the mirror at the head student—by age only—, Jet knew that they both were still ready to spar. One of Daniel's principles was to train hardest when completely exhausted, and it was the best way Jet knew firsthand to extend stamina, which was crucial in a match like this. He'd taken that lesson close to heart. Jet cracked his knuckles a few times, dropping low to stretch his legs, and then took a misleading fighting stance, which was a downward guard meant to draw attacks to his face.

In a very uncharacteristic move, Leon untied his black belt and cast his gi to the side, flexing ripped muscles that bulged out of a guinea tee shirt. A large panther sleeve tattoo eclipsed his right arm, and his close, infighter guard was a staple of the way that he fought, which was often directly to the point. In fact, watching the haphazard way in which Leon retied his black belt, Jet had come to notice after facing his longtime friend and fellow student many times before, that their fighting styles were quite opposite each other. His was long range and sneaky, they both knew that. "You can try me if you'd like. We may have started training here at the exact same time, and even hold the same rank, but a year of age makes all the difference in the world. I wouldn't underestimate that." Leon replied, just as haughtily. He puffed his chest and elongated his torso so that testosterone practically bled through his pores. If Jet wasn't doing the exact same thing, he would have found it deeply amusing.

Daniel Paterson slowly shook his head, but the beaming smile never left his face. The two adults squared off in a fighting ring, after bowing to him, and then to each other. The second his hand signaled the beginning of the match, the two forms were in motion, attacking each other at blisteringly high speeds. He himself was also moving around them, keeping close watch over each strike, enjoying himself just as much as he had over twenty years before, when he first saw the pair spar. This was true joy.

The moment the match began, Leon had to deflect a flurry of spinning roundhouse kicks that landed into his blocks with an immensely destructive force, each one rattling him a bit more than the last. Leon hopped back to avoid a follow up sweep, but Jet was quick on the draw. Halfway through his sweep kick, Jet altered his attack, crushing a powerful fist into Leon's left shoulder. Leon was in serious danger of falling over, and had no choice left but to counter. Trapping Jet's fist beneath his elbow, he pulled Jet's full weight forward, using the momentum to right himself, and to launch a kick at Jet's exposed ribs. His opponent employed a successful Muay Thai block and they separated, encircling each other again like hungry lions. Frustration slowly began to eat away at Leon from the corners of his mind. It shouldn't have been this difficult.

Jet wore exhaustion like a second skin, treating it as a natural phenomenon instead of something abnormal. He was already headlong into a fight; he didn't need mental creations like exhaustion and fatigue distracting him into other battles as well. He lowered his guard on purpose again, deceptively extending his right arm slightly less than fully, but keeping it pointed to the floor, while his left hand lazily lounged in the air near his chest. He patted himself on the back for doing such an excellent job at keeping Leon at bay with his long-range attacks. It had always been one of his inherent advantages. From the moment they had first begun training kumite combat as the only two students in the school years ago, orange belts at that, Sensei had instructed him to utilize that. Additionally, Jet remembered that should his range be penetrated, that he should always have a plan B; however, he didn't have to utilize that just yet. He waited for Leon to be mid step during his predatory circling, before launching a surprise kick from the side at his foe.

His ploy worked like a charm. Easily parrying Jet's expected kick, Leon didn't miss a beat at Jet's surprised expression. He landed a flurry of fierce elbow strikes into Jet's chest, twisting his torso to put his full body weight behind each earth-shattering blow. Each connected hit echoed like a bass drum through the open dojo, even causing Daniel to raise his eyebrows. With a satisfied grin, Leon made sure to retreat just after his third blow connected, so he wouldn't get greedy and be subject to a vicious counter strike. Satisfaction ate him up like a drug, and he felt adrenaline course through his veins even more. For the longest three seconds, Leon gleefully watched Jet struggle to catch his breath. He looked like he wanted to cough up blood. Leon was in the middle of a smile when the ranged striker was back at it again, throwing a new litany of long-range kicks faster than Leon could block them. All traces of his bubbling mirth immediately evaporated.

The pain was real, Jet surmised, tallying up the weight of his mistake. Initially, he had used the kick to test Leon's mettle, wondering whether or not the infighter would be foolish enough to throw any committed strikes toward his head. He hadn't accounted for the trap that lie in wait for him, but it was an error he'd never make again. He had his confirmation. Shaking off a quick spell of dizziness and ignoring his throbbing ribs, Jet pressed forward, matching Leon blow for blow, excitement keeping him moving like a sparking flame. Try as he might to bait Leon into attacking his weak points, Jet could not, seeing the intense concentration build an iron fortress in Leon's serious, hazel eyes. It was something that he'd always admired when watching Leon fight. For himself, he could immediately flip the switch between controlled aggression and peaceful relaxation. He could attack relentlessly while maintaining a humble, dignified air, and bow at his defeated opponents without arrogance. For Leon, he could easily drown out the entire world in order to focus on flawless execution, and he never faltered. His formal forms were all perfectly done, his stances exact and attacks precise, even when they came from left field. Nevertheless, just like pride, too intense a concentration goeth before a fall and Jet was ready to be that catalyst.

"Hiyah!" Jet suddenly yelled, the shout blasting from his diaphragm and flying around the room. As intended, the sudden burst of energy stunned Leon for only a second, but it was all it took for Jet to slam a pulled back fist into Leon's jaw. His opponent reeled to recover from the sting, but Jet wasn't finished. Following the staggered steps his opponent made, Jet purposefully placed his left ankle directly behind Leon's right foot and hooked it, causing him to stumble backward and lose his balance. He was not going to be grabbed by his senior again. At the same time, Jet forced his palm as hard as he could into his opponent's chest, blasting him backward until his body hit the dojo floor with an ugly thump near the ring perimeter. Jet was about to finish the transition with a sharp kick to the face, but Leon trapped his supporting leg cleverly, face boiling red with aggravation and increasing anger. For the next several minutes, the two of them were rolling across the floor, technique after technique, before separating yet again, battered and bruised, hardly able to stand opposite each other. Blood was drawn on both sides, shining cuts stinging with the new layer of sweat the continuous exertion created. Muscles shook, nerves fired and the two combatants merely stared at each other, until Jet relaxed back into the same fighting stance, feigning a strike with his forward leg raised. He was grinning; Leon was not.

"Bow." The single command came from Daniel, which ended the fight prematurely. He had been watching each landed attack with an intense appreciation and gratification for the martial arts, as well as his figurative sons. His words had come the moment he noticed Leon jerk forward in response to Jet's taunt, but his head pupil immediately masked the motion after. Jet hadn't noticed the aggressive stunt.

None of them looked at the clock on the wall to see how much time had passed since class had officially been dismissed, nor did they want to know how long the kumite match ran on for. The students bowed to each other in unison, doing a shaky fist pound afterward to finally end the match. "Just like your time here, never forget your passion." Sensei Paterson began, pointedly looking at them both individually for a few seconds, before addressing them in a group once more. "As you very well know, many of the lessons you have learned through your martial arts over the years can be applied to life. Those techniques that include discipline, self-control, honor, controlled aggression, humility, and many more translate easily into real world applications. Never forget that. I won't ask you to make me proud, for you have already brought tears to this old man's eyes. What I will request is that you put your absolute all into whatever you pursue from this point forward, and don't hold back."

He clapped his hands across both of their backs, smiling into the bright midsummer sun that beamed down from above as they walked him to his oversized Ford. He couldn't tell if he was imagining it or not, but Leon was still trembling, a dark aura radiating from his bod with a steady stream of heat even though the match was long over and he appeared to be enjoying the jovial moment together with them. When Daniel blinked his baby blue eyes, the sensation vanished. The engine started automatically as the sensei cracked a few more barely funny jokes that helped in holding back the flood of tears that had threatened to cloud the sunny day. That would be the last time the three saw each other again.


End file.
